Post by Dakota Smith on Dec 11, 2019 16:49:38 GMT -5
There once was a boy, a boy of troubled means - growing up in a small town with a deadbeat father and doormat of a mother. He didn’t have much, but he didn’t need it. Because you see this boy was something different from the rest, he didn’t break the mold… In fact he might of created it. But as that boy grew, as his dreams and life began to evolve he wanted nothing more than to be a wrestler. To be like the men and women he saw on screen giving their everything, each and every night. And that was the moment that spark of passion grew inside of his heart. At the age of thirteen he would gather around the troubled youth and hurt them, but not in the way that most of you are probably thinking. Instead he would hurt them like the wrestlers on TV hurt their opponent, he would stretch, and bleed out his so called friends under the guise of one day becoming professional wrestlers. But the truth of it was much more darker - as it usually tends to be. Because this boy liked hurting others, he liked being the center of attention, the head of the household, the one who made the rules.
But time would pass and the pummeling of those in his youth became tiresome, so this boy decided he would professionally pursue becoming a wrestler, just like those he saw on the television as a child. He decided to take his skill set out of the barn, and put it to use inside of an actual ring, He sought out training and joined a federation that didn’t really know what they had, but then again neither did the boy. Because you see he still tried to imitate those he saw on his tv, the admiration was borderline psychopathic in the way that he tried to create this image, this image of something more. Year after year he tried his best and gave everything he had, all while trying to imitate those who came before him - trying to be that stereotypical wrestling superstar that he watched the crowd fawn over.
But the boy was never meant to be that superstar, and no matter how hard he idolized those that came before him, a time came where he had to walk the path himself. And from his first step into his own mind, he realized that this path that was laid out before him was drenched in crimson. He saw the future, and knew that his rise to stardom was one covered in the blood of not only his rivals, but also of that in his own body. So with that we saw the boy twist and distort into the man, the legend, the modern day monster that we all know today. We watched as he shed past the skin of a nobody and took his place among the very top of this industry. It took years, it took gallons upon gallons of blood but finally he had made it. His body tore open, and his muscles rejecting themselves from bone, he continued on… Until he had nothing of himself left to give, until finally he relaxed into being the family man… He had himself a kid, got himself a girl and all would seem right in the world.
But after this, the more he moved forward - the more he felt his body pulling back, the more he felt who he was, who he had made deteriorate. The monster that he created was being laughed at, his own morals being called into question as maybe it was just an act… And at the beginning? Maybe it was… But this man that sank ten years of his life into becoming the monster that everyone feared, the devil that slept inside of your head, was now finding out that he was nothing more than human. That the character he had created may have run its course and it was now time for a new star to shine brightly in the sky. So he tried, oh how he tried… Giving up everything that made him, forfeiting any future glories to be what he was now supposed to be, a father, not a monster. But like all tales, we can not escape our path, we can not forgo our destiny for happiness. And that’s when it happens… When real life and character merged together, not by choice… The man wanted the life, he wanted to be happy… But happiness comes with a price, and the price was something his mind just wouldn’t allow. He fought against the monster he had created, but it was to late…He was that monster.
The camera cuts to a view of a kitchen, in a rather nice looking house. After a few moments of adjusting you realize that this is the house that Dakota Smith and Tara Michaels shared. Standing in front of the sink is Dakota Smith, dressed in a white wife beater - and a pair of black sweatpants. Behind him sitting at the table was a women, or at least what looked like a women bar her bare face. She had no details, no eyes or lips it was as if her entire face had been overgrown with flesh. She sat at the table, scrolling through her phone as Dakota finished up the dishes, his eyes heavy with black bags as if he hadn't slept in a few days - which on most days would have been normal for The Butcher. But on this particular day something inside him just hadn’t been feeling the same - you could see from his facial expressions that he was lost deep in his own mind as he scrubbed a plate clean.
As he placed the plate in the stack of clean dishes, Dakota looked up into the window before him. But instead of looking at the things that surrounded his house, he eyes focused in on his reflection. In the background you could hear a child starts to cry, causing the women at the table to get up from her seat and exit into what looked to be the living room, leaving Dakota by himself in the house that he had invested in. Slowly, you start to see the content drain from his eyes, being replaced by something much more desperate. His eyes growing ever the more disturbed as he glared at his reflection. Dakota reached up and slowly ran his fingers down the side of his cheek, as if he was examining it for the first time.
“Who…. Whose skin in this?“
As beads of sweat began to drip down his long dirty blonde hair onto his scarred face, you see the look of panic set in. Dakota quickly glanced around the room, as if he had no idea where he was. Cautiously stepping back away from the sink, his eyes met up back with his reflection, causing him to run his hands through his hair, gripping it near the back and pulling ever so slightly as if to confirm he was the man in the mirror. After his head moved backwards with the hair pull, he ran his fingers down the sides of his face, still looking bewildered if not mad.
“Whose skin is this?”
He says once again, but this time in a more harsh, anger fueled tone - still whispering though, as if he didn’t want anyone ls in the house to hear him. Dakota reaches out placing his hand up against the freezing cold glass of the window, letting his fingertips run down it, the jolt of cool air running up his arms and into his chest as he closed his eyes and let out a disgruntled sigh. Slowly he pulls his hand away from the glass and turns from it. He then throws his arms up in the air before clenching them on the side of his face, his eyes wide and maddending as he seemingly stared into nothingness.
“Whose skin is this!”
This time as Dakota said those words, his voice was much more intense, still a whisper, but you could hear his teeth grind against one another as he spoke. He then turned his delirious gaze back to the window, as if to confirm what he was seeing was real. Though all looked normal in the mirror, you could see the confirmation to his delusions in the way he smiled. It was ever so slightly at first, just barely curling up on the corner of his lips. Dakota leans forward embracing the sink before him, sinking his fingers into the side of it. That’s when the faceless women enters back into the room - even though her face could show no emotion you could tell that she was panicked by the way she placed her hands on the Butcher’s shoulders.
“WHOSE!”
Dakota blurts out as he releases his reddening palms from the sink, leeching them down into the shoulders of the faceless women. As Dakota shook the women you could see that she was distraught, trying to pull away - tears running down her eyeless face. Finally Dakota lets go over, pushing her to the ground as he does so - his eyes now fixated on her. As he marched forward slowly, she begins to use her arms to crawl backwards, trying to escape… But their was no escape, not from what was in the Butchers mind. Dakota once again threw his arms up to his face, but this time he dug his nails deep into his flesh before pulling down - tearing away at his skin.
The women had backed her way up to the couch in the other room, her back firmly pressed against it as Dakota dropped to the floor - still moving towards her in an almost childlike fashion. He got right up next to her and placed his bloody palms on the side of her cheek, looking into her lifeless face. It’s then that the baby started to cry again, it was off in the distance, probably in another room. You could see from the look on Dakota’s face that he had noticed, taking his attention away from the women only for a split second before pulling her face close to his.
“Whose… Skin… Is this?”
As those words left Dakota’s mouth he let out a chuckle, one that had been building in the center of his stomach since this whole charade had begun. It was deep, desperate, and most of all disturbing - his mouth twisting back with depravity and joy as he squeezed his hands tighter on the women's faceless face. Just when it seemed like Dakota was about to tear her flesh from bone the entire scenes cut to black. It was sudden, jarring in a way as the darkness seemed to move - though it was entirely black screen. The silence seemed to grow, as did the building pressure, it escalated and escalated until it seemed as if the entire scene would shatter like a mirror of nothingness, and that’s when another chuckle is heard.
This one more pronounced than before, it echoed out through the darkness like a whistle on the wind until it was filling every inch of your eardrum - gaining in momentum and deliriousness until a figure could be made walking through the darkness. It’s a shadow at first just moving through the voice before taking shape into that of Dakota Smith. He walked towards the camera, his steps permeating through the darkness as he went closer and closer until he was standing directly before the camera.The butcher wore a torn white wife beater, blue jeans that look like they’ve never been washed, and an old, faded black cowhide trench coat which had moss growing up one of the sides. His eyes were wide, his beard tangled and matted with blood, gore, and who knows what else. Dirt stained his flesh as he cocked his head to the side, staring into the lens of the camera with an unsettling grin.
“I have walked for so long in the dark, I’ve traveled through each and every broken part, diseased corner of this emptiness that I feel inside. This insatiable hunger that just keeps on bringing me back to the violence, to the horror of professional wrestler. I tried to watch from the outside, let the children play and live while I went on to do better things, justifiable things…. I… I tried, I really did… But this, this nothingness, this void, this lack of compassion is where I truly call home. It’s not the ring, it’s not 4CW, it’s not a house, and it’s not a wife… I am home, when I am hungry, when I feeding, when I am filling myself to the very brim with the blood of those who dare to get in my way. Ravenous is just a word, but I am the definition… The symbolized apparition of what happens when nothing is enough, when no matter how much you devour, how much you consume… You are still just left wanting more… No amount of pain is enough, no amount of glory will satisfy the craving… You just want more…
I want more.”
Gradually the darkness that surrounds Dakota begins to take form, dissipating away like a fog, revealing a familiar cave. The butcher now stands among the remains of those who have fallen before him, rotting at his feet. Jagged bones piercing through broken flesh - while the rats swarmed throughout the carcasses. Like Easter eggs in a movie or video games, you can see trinkets of his past opponents such as Griffin Hawkins severed head, felicity banks ring gear torn to shreds, strands of Jair Hopkins’s braids, etc. Dakota looks around at his collection, twirling his arms around his midsection as he scanned everything around him. He looked rather giddy, as he started to rock back and forth between the fronts and backs of his feet.
“All of this used to be a throne, a trophy for everything that I had accomplished, sure I’ve added to it here and there since then… But like all great things, sooner or later they begin to rot… Tore away by age and time until you are left with nothing more than a heaping mass of death - everything I’ve ever done deteriorated right in front of my eyes and there was nothing I could do about it. “ Letting out low, almost nervous chuckle he continued. “ I watched as the house that I made, the temple that I sacrificed everything for, the throne that I carved out die! And it destroyed me… It changed me, it made me something that I don’t even recognize anymore. Where does Dakota Smith end and The Butcher begin - I can’t tell you… And I fucking love it! “
Dakota lets out another chuckle, this one deeper in tone - coming from his gut and bouncing off the cave walls back at him. As he laughed his body contorted in a rather unnatural position, looking like the victim of a car crash the way his flesh twisted.
“ When something dies, something new begins… And this… This is that new beginning.”
Reshaping his body to it’s normal position, Dakota lets a snake like smirk slither up one side of his lips as his eyes narrowed on the camera.
“Union Battleground… Guerrilla Warfare number three, a war for the championship… A new hunting ground, a new taste to taste… Because for a long time, I hunted only one ground… For a long time I kept all of you from witnessing, and taking part in my… Certain kind of violence… But no longer will I keep that chain around my neck, because you see this hunger that I feel inside of myself it’s not just for a select breed… It’s for everyone… Dakota Smith… Is for everyone! So now with the ultimate prize on the line I have decided to take this hunger for flesh that eats away at me, and share it with every man and women who decided to show up. Don’t you see? It’s beautiful isn’t it? I’m sharing myself with the world… I’m sinking my teeth into fresh, untouched meat - men and women who have never had me take apart of them… Wrestlers who have never felt my blade at their throat… Victims who have never outlined in chalk… It’s pretty fucking exciting for me. “
Every few words Dakota would chuckle underneath his breath, more so on that last line as he paused. With a loud crack of bones, he takes a step forward before running his hands up his war-torn body. Dakota took in a deep breath as he did so, letting the foul stench of decomposition fill his nostrils as if it were cotton candy. The stench clung to his nostrils and lungs like a sugary sweet substance, enveloping him in it’s decay. As Dakota exhaled he got a satisfied grin on his face, before letting his arms drop back down to his side.
“Not… Not so much for all of you though, because you see with this new found freedom, I am coming for each and every one of your heads. I’m coming to sink my teeth inside of your jugulars, rip my head back and watch as you stain the mat a deep crimson red. The spark of satisfaction I get from seeing others laying helpless before me, the orgasmic chill that runs down my spine as I cripple flesh in my own hands… That’s what's coming for you, Union Battleground… That’s what's coming for all of you! Because while that championship may be on the line - it’s rebuilding my legacy that I care about… It’s about making sure that each and every maggot in attendance goes home and tells their children to watch out for the boogeyman underneath their beds once again… Because The Butcher is back, and not that B movie version that was here before. Oh no! This time… This time you all are getting the real thing. “
Dakota continues to walk forward, the sound of bones shattering into dust following him with every step. As he spoke his nostrils flared, the flesh that surrounded them twitching.
“I’ve heard a lot about Union, and those who battle there… It’s supposed to be some sort of arena, a battleground I suppose you could say. It’s where the best from all around the world gather and do battle, where feuds get decided, where the future is made. And to be its champion means that you have to be ready to take on anyone and everyone, because they will come for you. They came for Alyssa Daniels but none could stop her… Or she just never showed up, I don’t really know the whole story… And nor should I need to, because this guerrilla warfare isn’t about the past it’s about the future! The future of Union Battleground and who will lead it into the new decade, who will become the face of the place and who will earn the title Union Battleground champion.
I’ve heard whispers, seen what kind of competition or lack thereof I'm up against. Maggots who could barely even survive where I come from, people would shit their fucking pants and run away scared if they had to compete at the level that I compete at! A bunch of fucking nobodies hoping that this will be the moment where they break out of their mundaness and take control of one of the biggest companies running. Am I supposed to be intimidated by the likes of Toby Wagner? Bryan Williams? Jay Sinclair? Fallon fucking Lockhart? Whelps chomping at the bit, trying to get some scraps off the adults table…. That’s all they are… Worthless children needing to be scolded for reaching higher than their means. “
As Dakota exits the main chamber of the cave system, the sound of bones breaking subsides. He brings one arm up and runs it through his filth encrusted hair, flicking the dirt and sweat from his fingertips as he continues.
“They need to win this match in order to finally be something, in order to prove that everything they’ve worked so... So hard for means something, that it’s all worth it. This is their ticket to the chocolate factory, and I… Am just going to have so much fucking fun ripping it all away from them. Meat waiting to be consumed, lives waiting to be taken. I will sacrifice each and every one of their careers to get what I want, that championship, my legacy! I’ll do everything and then some, because this isn’t just about becoming the face of the company for me, this just about feeding my hunger, oh no! It’s so much bigger than that… This is about showing the world that 4CW was protecting you all by keeping them to themselves. Wallace was doing you all a kindness by feeding me in his own house, while all of these other grounds got to prosper, never having felt the butchers wrath. “
Dakota’s fingers find themselves running along his lips, as he smacked his moistened gums together.
“It’s a shame really, a downright injustice the way I’ve kept all of this violence to myself… When I could have been sharing it with all of you all along, sharing myself with you all along. But now I’ve chosen to right those wrongs, I’ve come to terms with everything that has happened and I once again walk that crimson path, branding out into new pastures. I have a lot of work to make up for... Almost seven years of my life breeding hell in one singular place. But now it’s time to spread my wings and devour the world - to try and fill this fucking hungerr with the lives of those who have been sparred. I’ll shove whoever gets in my way inside of my mouth, devouring them, sending them to blackest pit of my gut. “
Rubbing his stomach, he gets a sickening smile on his lips. His tongue slips out from between the crack in his smile, and seductively runs along his bottom lip.
“Just to see if they fit… And when they don’t?” His voice dropped to a growled tone “I’ll shit them out.... “
The sadistic giggles and chuckles became more rampant as he spoke, as the look of excitement rose.
“Maggots, festering at my feet as I usher in a new era of violence into Union Battleground… I’ll keep going until I have nothing left, and even then I’ll push forward because there isn’t a single thing that anyone in this match can do to me, that I haven’t already done to myself… That I haven’t already experienced in one way or the other. I’ve faced the very best in this business, those who you all fear to face… And I’ve walked out alive each and every time… I’ve had my hand raised against far better men, and I’ve been left bleeding out by those whose names none of you will ever remember. Great highs and terrible lows, all have lead up to one thing… And one thing alone. “
Extending his arms out to his sides, Dakota wiggles his fingers in a frantic, showman like fashion. He then leans his head in closer to the camera as he continues to walk forward.
“A killing spree that will go nationwide… And it all begins with the Norfolk, Virginia massacre. Call the cops, call the papers, call your mothers because they’re children are about to get violated, mutilated, and cannibalized in front of millions and millions of fans screaming for more! A mass homicide broadcasted across the world, and glorified by the powers that be. When I leave the nest, when I leave all that I have helped create and branch out on this new path of crimson, know that I am coming for heads, for keeps - for trophies on my fucking wall. Because I could have stayed where I was, I could have stayed retired…. In fact...I may have even wanted that… But something inside of me just wouldn’t let that be, the manifestation of violence can’t be gone from the bloodshed for too long, you can’t deny who you are forever… “
Beams of sunlight pierce through the darkness of the cave as Dakota nears the exit. The butcher throws his hands up over his eyes as beam of light hits him in the face, really showing the grotesqueness of his mangled exterior. Letting out a growl of irritation, he slowly lowers his arms, as his head slightly twitches to the side. .
“I am the incarnation of blood and gore, the monster made real, your worst nightmares brought to life… When you’re alone and you feel like someone is watching you, that’s me… Seeping into your head like a cancer, burrowing my way deep inside of your psyche until I become a part of you. I become your every waking thought, I’m a cancer that can’t be cut out - no chemotherapy will rid yourself of the disease that is Dakota Smith. I’m terminal, and nineteen men and women have been given an expiration date…December twenty-ninth, twenty-nineteen”
As Dakota exits the cave you hear the sound of several guns being cocked. The camera pans out and shows a line of people surrounding the cave entrance, some using trees as cover - others hunched down in the back of their pick-up trucks. All had their barrels pointed at Dakota, with ill-intent in their eyes. They didn’t seem like the law, as they looked like mothers, fathers and siblings all with a certain look of loss to them. The butcher gazed out upon the people and grinned a cocky as fuck grin, as if the devil himself had possessed him. His eyes almost glistened with joy, chuckling to himself as he circled his head around his shoulders - loud pops coming from his bones.
“Norfolk will be remembered like Orlando, like Paris, like Charleston…. With the bloody stain of massacre being imprinted on it by someone who just wanted to see the world burn. By someone like me, the last real serial killer in professional wrestling… Something I have said many times before, but no more than now have I meant it… I’m not doing this for the fame, or the glory, or even the championship… I’m doing this because I crave it, I’m addicted to the punishment, and starving for the competition…I’m doing this because I want to eviscerate the entire wrestling world! I want to cut it open, disembowel everything that it is… I want to kill professional wrestling one fucking maggot at a time… Or in this case, nineteen.”
Dakota closes his eyes as a stillness washes over the scene, the sun almost sparkling off his grime stained body.
“I am the mangled man, the butcher…Flesh given hate… And i’m going to consume all of professional wrestling.”
The silent stillness breaks, first with the click of a trigger and bang followed by more triggers being pulled and gunshots ringing out into the forest which surrounded the cave. The sound of wings scattering as birds fly off the trees in various directions before everything cuts to black and goes silent. This silence lasts for about thirty seconds before you hear the last whispered growl of Dakota Smith.
“Then I’ll ravage the corpse.“
But time would pass and the pummeling of those in his youth became tiresome, so this boy decided he would professionally pursue becoming a wrestler, just like those he saw on the television as a child. He decided to take his skill set out of the barn, and put it to use inside of an actual ring, He sought out training and joined a federation that didn’t really know what they had, but then again neither did the boy. Because you see he still tried to imitate those he saw on his tv, the admiration was borderline psychopathic in the way that he tried to create this image, this image of something more. Year after year he tried his best and gave everything he had, all while trying to imitate those who came before him - trying to be that stereotypical wrestling superstar that he watched the crowd fawn over.
But the boy was never meant to be that superstar, and no matter how hard he idolized those that came before him, a time came where he had to walk the path himself. And from his first step into his own mind, he realized that this path that was laid out before him was drenched in crimson. He saw the future, and knew that his rise to stardom was one covered in the blood of not only his rivals, but also of that in his own body. So with that we saw the boy twist and distort into the man, the legend, the modern day monster that we all know today. We watched as he shed past the skin of a nobody and took his place among the very top of this industry. It took years, it took gallons upon gallons of blood but finally he had made it. His body tore open, and his muscles rejecting themselves from bone, he continued on… Until he had nothing of himself left to give, until finally he relaxed into being the family man… He had himself a kid, got himself a girl and all would seem right in the world.
But after this, the more he moved forward - the more he felt his body pulling back, the more he felt who he was, who he had made deteriorate. The monster that he created was being laughed at, his own morals being called into question as maybe it was just an act… And at the beginning? Maybe it was… But this man that sank ten years of his life into becoming the monster that everyone feared, the devil that slept inside of your head, was now finding out that he was nothing more than human. That the character he had created may have run its course and it was now time for a new star to shine brightly in the sky. So he tried, oh how he tried… Giving up everything that made him, forfeiting any future glories to be what he was now supposed to be, a father, not a monster. But like all tales, we can not escape our path, we can not forgo our destiny for happiness. And that’s when it happens… When real life and character merged together, not by choice… The man wanted the life, he wanted to be happy… But happiness comes with a price, and the price was something his mind just wouldn’t allow. He fought against the monster he had created, but it was to late…He was that monster.
The camera cuts to a view of a kitchen, in a rather nice looking house. After a few moments of adjusting you realize that this is the house that Dakota Smith and Tara Michaels shared. Standing in front of the sink is Dakota Smith, dressed in a white wife beater - and a pair of black sweatpants. Behind him sitting at the table was a women, or at least what looked like a women bar her bare face. She had no details, no eyes or lips it was as if her entire face had been overgrown with flesh. She sat at the table, scrolling through her phone as Dakota finished up the dishes, his eyes heavy with black bags as if he hadn't slept in a few days - which on most days would have been normal for The Butcher. But on this particular day something inside him just hadn’t been feeling the same - you could see from his facial expressions that he was lost deep in his own mind as he scrubbed a plate clean.
As he placed the plate in the stack of clean dishes, Dakota looked up into the window before him. But instead of looking at the things that surrounded his house, he eyes focused in on his reflection. In the background you could hear a child starts to cry, causing the women at the table to get up from her seat and exit into what looked to be the living room, leaving Dakota by himself in the house that he had invested in. Slowly, you start to see the content drain from his eyes, being replaced by something much more desperate. His eyes growing ever the more disturbed as he glared at his reflection. Dakota reached up and slowly ran his fingers down the side of his cheek, as if he was examining it for the first time.
“Who…. Whose skin in this?“
As beads of sweat began to drip down his long dirty blonde hair onto his scarred face, you see the look of panic set in. Dakota quickly glanced around the room, as if he had no idea where he was. Cautiously stepping back away from the sink, his eyes met up back with his reflection, causing him to run his hands through his hair, gripping it near the back and pulling ever so slightly as if to confirm he was the man in the mirror. After his head moved backwards with the hair pull, he ran his fingers down the sides of his face, still looking bewildered if not mad.
“Whose skin is this?”
He says once again, but this time in a more harsh, anger fueled tone - still whispering though, as if he didn’t want anyone ls in the house to hear him. Dakota reaches out placing his hand up against the freezing cold glass of the window, letting his fingertips run down it, the jolt of cool air running up his arms and into his chest as he closed his eyes and let out a disgruntled sigh. Slowly he pulls his hand away from the glass and turns from it. He then throws his arms up in the air before clenching them on the side of his face, his eyes wide and maddending as he seemingly stared into nothingness.
“Whose skin is this!”
This time as Dakota said those words, his voice was much more intense, still a whisper, but you could hear his teeth grind against one another as he spoke. He then turned his delirious gaze back to the window, as if to confirm what he was seeing was real. Though all looked normal in the mirror, you could see the confirmation to his delusions in the way he smiled. It was ever so slightly at first, just barely curling up on the corner of his lips. Dakota leans forward embracing the sink before him, sinking his fingers into the side of it. That’s when the faceless women enters back into the room - even though her face could show no emotion you could tell that she was panicked by the way she placed her hands on the Butcher’s shoulders.
“WHOSE!”
Dakota blurts out as he releases his reddening palms from the sink, leeching them down into the shoulders of the faceless women. As Dakota shook the women you could see that she was distraught, trying to pull away - tears running down her eyeless face. Finally Dakota lets go over, pushing her to the ground as he does so - his eyes now fixated on her. As he marched forward slowly, she begins to use her arms to crawl backwards, trying to escape… But their was no escape, not from what was in the Butchers mind. Dakota once again threw his arms up to his face, but this time he dug his nails deep into his flesh before pulling down - tearing away at his skin.
The women had backed her way up to the couch in the other room, her back firmly pressed against it as Dakota dropped to the floor - still moving towards her in an almost childlike fashion. He got right up next to her and placed his bloody palms on the side of her cheek, looking into her lifeless face. It’s then that the baby started to cry again, it was off in the distance, probably in another room. You could see from the look on Dakota’s face that he had noticed, taking his attention away from the women only for a split second before pulling her face close to his.
“Whose… Skin… Is this?”
As those words left Dakota’s mouth he let out a chuckle, one that had been building in the center of his stomach since this whole charade had begun. It was deep, desperate, and most of all disturbing - his mouth twisting back with depravity and joy as he squeezed his hands tighter on the women's faceless face. Just when it seemed like Dakota was about to tear her flesh from bone the entire scenes cut to black. It was sudden, jarring in a way as the darkness seemed to move - though it was entirely black screen. The silence seemed to grow, as did the building pressure, it escalated and escalated until it seemed as if the entire scene would shatter like a mirror of nothingness, and that’s when another chuckle is heard.
This one more pronounced than before, it echoed out through the darkness like a whistle on the wind until it was filling every inch of your eardrum - gaining in momentum and deliriousness until a figure could be made walking through the darkness. It’s a shadow at first just moving through the voice before taking shape into that of Dakota Smith. He walked towards the camera, his steps permeating through the darkness as he went closer and closer until he was standing directly before the camera.The butcher wore a torn white wife beater, blue jeans that look like they’ve never been washed, and an old, faded black cowhide trench coat which had moss growing up one of the sides. His eyes were wide, his beard tangled and matted with blood, gore, and who knows what else. Dirt stained his flesh as he cocked his head to the side, staring into the lens of the camera with an unsettling grin.
“I have walked for so long in the dark, I’ve traveled through each and every broken part, diseased corner of this emptiness that I feel inside. This insatiable hunger that just keeps on bringing me back to the violence, to the horror of professional wrestler. I tried to watch from the outside, let the children play and live while I went on to do better things, justifiable things…. I… I tried, I really did… But this, this nothingness, this void, this lack of compassion is where I truly call home. It’s not the ring, it’s not 4CW, it’s not a house, and it’s not a wife… I am home, when I am hungry, when I feeding, when I am filling myself to the very brim with the blood of those who dare to get in my way. Ravenous is just a word, but I am the definition… The symbolized apparition of what happens when nothing is enough, when no matter how much you devour, how much you consume… You are still just left wanting more… No amount of pain is enough, no amount of glory will satisfy the craving… You just want more…
I want more.”
Gradually the darkness that surrounds Dakota begins to take form, dissipating away like a fog, revealing a familiar cave. The butcher now stands among the remains of those who have fallen before him, rotting at his feet. Jagged bones piercing through broken flesh - while the rats swarmed throughout the carcasses. Like Easter eggs in a movie or video games, you can see trinkets of his past opponents such as Griffin Hawkins severed head, felicity banks ring gear torn to shreds, strands of Jair Hopkins’s braids, etc. Dakota looks around at his collection, twirling his arms around his midsection as he scanned everything around him. He looked rather giddy, as he started to rock back and forth between the fronts and backs of his feet.
“All of this used to be a throne, a trophy for everything that I had accomplished, sure I’ve added to it here and there since then… But like all great things, sooner or later they begin to rot… Tore away by age and time until you are left with nothing more than a heaping mass of death - everything I’ve ever done deteriorated right in front of my eyes and there was nothing I could do about it. “ Letting out low, almost nervous chuckle he continued. “ I watched as the house that I made, the temple that I sacrificed everything for, the throne that I carved out die! And it destroyed me… It changed me, it made me something that I don’t even recognize anymore. Where does Dakota Smith end and The Butcher begin - I can’t tell you… And I fucking love it! “
Dakota lets out another chuckle, this one deeper in tone - coming from his gut and bouncing off the cave walls back at him. As he laughed his body contorted in a rather unnatural position, looking like the victim of a car crash the way his flesh twisted.
“ When something dies, something new begins… And this… This is that new beginning.”
Reshaping his body to it’s normal position, Dakota lets a snake like smirk slither up one side of his lips as his eyes narrowed on the camera.
“Union Battleground… Guerrilla Warfare number three, a war for the championship… A new hunting ground, a new taste to taste… Because for a long time, I hunted only one ground… For a long time I kept all of you from witnessing, and taking part in my… Certain kind of violence… But no longer will I keep that chain around my neck, because you see this hunger that I feel inside of myself it’s not just for a select breed… It’s for everyone… Dakota Smith… Is for everyone! So now with the ultimate prize on the line I have decided to take this hunger for flesh that eats away at me, and share it with every man and women who decided to show up. Don’t you see? It’s beautiful isn’t it? I’m sharing myself with the world… I’m sinking my teeth into fresh, untouched meat - men and women who have never had me take apart of them… Wrestlers who have never felt my blade at their throat… Victims who have never outlined in chalk… It’s pretty fucking exciting for me. “
Every few words Dakota would chuckle underneath his breath, more so on that last line as he paused. With a loud crack of bones, he takes a step forward before running his hands up his war-torn body. Dakota took in a deep breath as he did so, letting the foul stench of decomposition fill his nostrils as if it were cotton candy. The stench clung to his nostrils and lungs like a sugary sweet substance, enveloping him in it’s decay. As Dakota exhaled he got a satisfied grin on his face, before letting his arms drop back down to his side.
“Not… Not so much for all of you though, because you see with this new found freedom, I am coming for each and every one of your heads. I’m coming to sink my teeth inside of your jugulars, rip my head back and watch as you stain the mat a deep crimson red. The spark of satisfaction I get from seeing others laying helpless before me, the orgasmic chill that runs down my spine as I cripple flesh in my own hands… That’s what's coming for you, Union Battleground… That’s what's coming for all of you! Because while that championship may be on the line - it’s rebuilding my legacy that I care about… It’s about making sure that each and every maggot in attendance goes home and tells their children to watch out for the boogeyman underneath their beds once again… Because The Butcher is back, and not that B movie version that was here before. Oh no! This time… This time you all are getting the real thing. “
Dakota continues to walk forward, the sound of bones shattering into dust following him with every step. As he spoke his nostrils flared, the flesh that surrounded them twitching.
“I’ve heard a lot about Union, and those who battle there… It’s supposed to be some sort of arena, a battleground I suppose you could say. It’s where the best from all around the world gather and do battle, where feuds get decided, where the future is made. And to be its champion means that you have to be ready to take on anyone and everyone, because they will come for you. They came for Alyssa Daniels but none could stop her… Or she just never showed up, I don’t really know the whole story… And nor should I need to, because this guerrilla warfare isn’t about the past it’s about the future! The future of Union Battleground and who will lead it into the new decade, who will become the face of the place and who will earn the title Union Battleground champion.
I’ve heard whispers, seen what kind of competition or lack thereof I'm up against. Maggots who could barely even survive where I come from, people would shit their fucking pants and run away scared if they had to compete at the level that I compete at! A bunch of fucking nobodies hoping that this will be the moment where they break out of their mundaness and take control of one of the biggest companies running. Am I supposed to be intimidated by the likes of Toby Wagner? Bryan Williams? Jay Sinclair? Fallon fucking Lockhart? Whelps chomping at the bit, trying to get some scraps off the adults table…. That’s all they are… Worthless children needing to be scolded for reaching higher than their means. “
As Dakota exits the main chamber of the cave system, the sound of bones breaking subsides. He brings one arm up and runs it through his filth encrusted hair, flicking the dirt and sweat from his fingertips as he continues.
“They need to win this match in order to finally be something, in order to prove that everything they’ve worked so... So hard for means something, that it’s all worth it. This is their ticket to the chocolate factory, and I… Am just going to have so much fucking fun ripping it all away from them. Meat waiting to be consumed, lives waiting to be taken. I will sacrifice each and every one of their careers to get what I want, that championship, my legacy! I’ll do everything and then some, because this isn’t just about becoming the face of the company for me, this just about feeding my hunger, oh no! It’s so much bigger than that… This is about showing the world that 4CW was protecting you all by keeping them to themselves. Wallace was doing you all a kindness by feeding me in his own house, while all of these other grounds got to prosper, never having felt the butchers wrath. “
Dakota’s fingers find themselves running along his lips, as he smacked his moistened gums together.
“It’s a shame really, a downright injustice the way I’ve kept all of this violence to myself… When I could have been sharing it with all of you all along, sharing myself with you all along. But now I’ve chosen to right those wrongs, I’ve come to terms with everything that has happened and I once again walk that crimson path, branding out into new pastures. I have a lot of work to make up for... Almost seven years of my life breeding hell in one singular place. But now it’s time to spread my wings and devour the world - to try and fill this fucking hungerr with the lives of those who have been sparred. I’ll shove whoever gets in my way inside of my mouth, devouring them, sending them to blackest pit of my gut. “
Rubbing his stomach, he gets a sickening smile on his lips. His tongue slips out from between the crack in his smile, and seductively runs along his bottom lip.
“Just to see if they fit… And when they don’t?” His voice dropped to a growled tone “I’ll shit them out.... “
The sadistic giggles and chuckles became more rampant as he spoke, as the look of excitement rose.
“Maggots, festering at my feet as I usher in a new era of violence into Union Battleground… I’ll keep going until I have nothing left, and even then I’ll push forward because there isn’t a single thing that anyone in this match can do to me, that I haven’t already done to myself… That I haven’t already experienced in one way or the other. I’ve faced the very best in this business, those who you all fear to face… And I’ve walked out alive each and every time… I’ve had my hand raised against far better men, and I’ve been left bleeding out by those whose names none of you will ever remember. Great highs and terrible lows, all have lead up to one thing… And one thing alone. “
Extending his arms out to his sides, Dakota wiggles his fingers in a frantic, showman like fashion. He then leans his head in closer to the camera as he continues to walk forward.
“A killing spree that will go nationwide… And it all begins with the Norfolk, Virginia massacre. Call the cops, call the papers, call your mothers because they’re children are about to get violated, mutilated, and cannibalized in front of millions and millions of fans screaming for more! A mass homicide broadcasted across the world, and glorified by the powers that be. When I leave the nest, when I leave all that I have helped create and branch out on this new path of crimson, know that I am coming for heads, for keeps - for trophies on my fucking wall. Because I could have stayed where I was, I could have stayed retired…. In fact...I may have even wanted that… But something inside of me just wouldn’t let that be, the manifestation of violence can’t be gone from the bloodshed for too long, you can’t deny who you are forever… “
Beams of sunlight pierce through the darkness of the cave as Dakota nears the exit. The butcher throws his hands up over his eyes as beam of light hits him in the face, really showing the grotesqueness of his mangled exterior. Letting out a growl of irritation, he slowly lowers his arms, as his head slightly twitches to the side. .
“I am the incarnation of blood and gore, the monster made real, your worst nightmares brought to life… When you’re alone and you feel like someone is watching you, that’s me… Seeping into your head like a cancer, burrowing my way deep inside of your psyche until I become a part of you. I become your every waking thought, I’m a cancer that can’t be cut out - no chemotherapy will rid yourself of the disease that is Dakota Smith. I’m terminal, and nineteen men and women have been given an expiration date…December twenty-ninth, twenty-nineteen”
As Dakota exits the cave you hear the sound of several guns being cocked. The camera pans out and shows a line of people surrounding the cave entrance, some using trees as cover - others hunched down in the back of their pick-up trucks. All had their barrels pointed at Dakota, with ill-intent in their eyes. They didn’t seem like the law, as they looked like mothers, fathers and siblings all with a certain look of loss to them. The butcher gazed out upon the people and grinned a cocky as fuck grin, as if the devil himself had possessed him. His eyes almost glistened with joy, chuckling to himself as he circled his head around his shoulders - loud pops coming from his bones.
“Norfolk will be remembered like Orlando, like Paris, like Charleston…. With the bloody stain of massacre being imprinted on it by someone who just wanted to see the world burn. By someone like me, the last real serial killer in professional wrestling… Something I have said many times before, but no more than now have I meant it… I’m not doing this for the fame, or the glory, or even the championship… I’m doing this because I crave it, I’m addicted to the punishment, and starving for the competition…I’m doing this because I want to eviscerate the entire wrestling world! I want to cut it open, disembowel everything that it is… I want to kill professional wrestling one fucking maggot at a time… Or in this case, nineteen.”
Dakota closes his eyes as a stillness washes over the scene, the sun almost sparkling off his grime stained body.
“I am the mangled man, the butcher…Flesh given hate… And i’m going to consume all of professional wrestling.”
The silent stillness breaks, first with the click of a trigger and bang followed by more triggers being pulled and gunshots ringing out into the forest which surrounded the cave. The sound of wings scattering as birds fly off the trees in various directions before everything cuts to black and goes silent. This silence lasts for about thirty seconds before you hear the last whispered growl of Dakota Smith.
“Then I’ll ravage the corpse.“